(Year 997 of the Organized Calendar, 16th Day of Inji's Fullness, 9:32AM)
Rarely was anyone allowed into this particular room. Typically, the few who were permitted to enter were high among the clergy, Cardinals and Vicars come to see the powerful oddity contained within. Lower Priests were allowed far more regularly, and although guards were always nearby, they were almost never allowed to enter.
As one guard entered the room, he found himself mulling over these facts, pondering the fact that his entry was a marked and notable exception.
His first observation of the room was the darkness, of course – the room was unlit, windowless, without even torches to see by. Only the light cast up from below guided the guard down the stairs, steep as they were, toward his destination.
The guard’s third observation of the room was its depth. Perhaps, in all its shadows, the room seemed deeper than it was, but as the guard spiral downward into the brick-walled pit, he could not help but remark at the dizzying quality of the experience, and the feeling that even though the light of the forge became closer and closer, the bottom of the pit might somehow be growing further away.
The guard’s last observation was the heat. Heat he felt in his bones, in his sweat, in the chain-links of his armor. It was a wonder, the guard realized, that anyone could live in these conditions, and yet…
As the guard finally rounded the last turn and came to the bottom of the spiraling steps, he laid eyes upon the Holy Forge, and upon its mistress. As the guard approached the hunched figure on the floor, he heard her murmurs – a whispered prayer.
One tap of a spear-end on the floor, and the prayers were silenced.
The figure before him rose and stood tall, and the guard found himself compelled to kneel, although nothing demanded this of him. Before him, after all, merely stood a young woman. Only fifteen years of age, so the rumours said, and only slightly tall for that measure. Wrapped in a simple brown robe, the girl cut no imposing figure… to the layman’s eye, at least.
A career soldier before taking his position, however, this particular guard recognized from experience the muscle indicated by the way her garments shifted over her shoulders, and the discipline in the way she carried herself… as well as the strength of character, perhaps, in the steely look of her eyes.
This guard was not here to observe, however. “Lady Mal–”
“Just Mal.”
The guard paused.
The girl before him clarified, in a near whisper, “I am simply Mal. You should call me nothing else.”
The guard decided not to argue with that. “Mal, then… I come bearing news from Vicar Boross.” From a pouch at his side, the guard pulled a sealed letter, and passed it forward.
Mal took the letter gingerly, stepping away to make sure the paper kept its distance from the Holy Forge. With a tearing sound, the guard heard the letter open.
Silence reigned for another moment.
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“Hmm.”
The guard did not respond to Mal’s intonation, but then Mal turned her head. “If you would do me a favour… approach the forge, guard.”
The guard could refuse this request, of course, but if rumours were true… denying Mal might be unwise. The guard approached the forge, paying real attention to it for the first time… and found, on the anvil before him, a sword. The weapon was simple, flat and straight, about as direct as it was possible to be.
“If you would be so kind, test its weight?”
Mal walked further away, her nose still in the letter, giving the guard space. Again, the guard could surely object, but given the rumours about swords from the Holy Forge…
Spear set aside, the guard picked up the sword and hefted it, first in two hands and then in one. It was a heavier blade than expected – perhaps its simple appearance hid a tougher core? As the guard began to swing into empty air, however, echoing simple drills and cues from his days of training, the guard found that he was not dissatisfied.
The weight of the blade carried well, lighter toward the base and heavier toward the tip, almost like swinging a hammer. The guard found himself naturally leaning deeper into his strikes, carrying the weight further and into a harder potential impact. A more brutish way to wield a sword, perhaps, than the agile movements one might expect… but then, all weapons had their brutish qualities.
Satisfied, the guard returned the blade to its place. “A worthy example of its kind, if a bit uncouth. The rumours of your craft and its quality are true, it would seem, L- …Mal.”
There was a momentary pause before Mal responded, “Then if you would extend your kindness further…”
There was a flash of light, and suddenly, above the blade hovered a seeming copy of the same weapon. Slowly, the blade rotated in the air, and then it began to move, drifting away from the Holy Forge and into the open air. Mal continued, “Be so kind as to test its mettle.”
The blade began to twist in midair, imitating chopping motions. While the guard was aware that this was definitely not something he’d been sent to do… the verification of further rumours about Mal, Mistress of the Holy Forge, made him eager to comply. His spear was retrieved, and the mock battle began.
The blade’s motions were simple, but there was an unusual quality to them by the simple fact that the blade was not constrained by a human wielder. The hovering blade could fence despite its weight, for example, driving forward at only slightly differing angles, deflected repeatedly by the metal shaft of the guard’s spear. It could also rotate in ways that a human wrist would not allow, arcing toward the shaft in one direction and then inverting its rotation to strike from the other. The lack of a human body to protect, furthermore, meant the blade could attack without restraint, swinging wildly and being deflected as it pleased, only to turn itself around and approach again.
The speed of the hovering blade seemed to increase with every tap, too, pressing the guard to deflect more and more quickly until the blade did, at last, find a limit, striking the shaft of the spear so hard that, although the guard stood his ground, the grip of the hovering blade shook loose, an unfinished seal between grip and guard exposed. With that, the sword vanished as suddenly as it appeared.
The guard turned back to Mal, who shook her head. “Another weapon found wanting, and in turn…”
With a flick of the wrist, Mal tossed the sealed letter into the fire of the forge. “A shame,” she continued, “But it will suffice.” She turned to the guard. “I thank you for this… spar. You are to bring me to see Vicar Boross personally.”
The guard simply nodded. “Yes… Mal.”
The guard led her away, up the spiral staircase and into the church, pausing only to ask, “…What was the purpose of that spar, if I may ask?”
The guard could swear he heard a restrained chuckle from beneath Mal’s cloak, barely more than a gasp. “It held no great significance, sir guard. You presence simply afforded an opportunity for me to test one of my latest creations in advance of any need for it. None too soon, as indeed it may be needed."
Something in the young woman's voice seemed to change as she continued, "I am soon to be sent into the field, after all… in pursuit of a particularly dangerous sinner.”